


Any Man With A Gun

by darkforetold



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gunplay, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkforetold/pseuds/darkforetold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean teaches Castiel the intricacies of gun handling and discovers how eager he is to learn.</p><p>
  <em>"Dean found himself lost for breath, mesmerized by Cas’ tongue, the way he was swallowing down the gun as far as he could. Deep, bobbing up and down on it like his life depended on it."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Man With A Gun

They were in the motel room, he and Cas, sitting at the table and pouring over various guns. Ever since Cas had become human, Dean took it upon himself to teach the fallen angel the art of firearms; how to handle them, use them, how to protect himself. These things were important, Dean felt. These were the things that Dad had taught him as early as he could remember.

Dean cast him a side-long glance as Cas picked up another gun and started to pull it apart. He did it with ease, once-clumsy fingers now fluid and precise. Dean only had to show Cas how to disassemble and clean a gun once or twice. If nothing else, Cas had been a quick learner.

Dean turned to his own gun and ran his fingertips over its silver shine. He had been through a lot with this gun, blasting through countless of monsters with the blare of gunshots. Guns weren’t to be taken lightly. They were dangerous and Cas had to know that. The ex-Angel of the Lord couldn’t fry monsters into oblivion anymore. He had to learn all the intricacies of gun handling and there was one thing left he had to teach him—

“Respect,” Dean announced suddenly. “Respecting your weapon, the power of it, its lethality, is just as important as knowing how to shoot it.”

Dean peeled his thoughts away from the gun’s reflective sheen and was met with Cas’ brilliant blue eyes. A level of understanding flickered in them, but Dean knew it wouldn’t be enough. Understanding wasn’t the same as knowing and Cas would need to learn the difference.

“Get on your knees.”

That earned him a frown of confusion. Dean stood up and brandished the gun, pointing it at his head. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Cas.”

Without so much as a sound, Cas set down the gun he was cleaning. The former angel still had that impeccable grace when he moved, long limbs almost ethereal and other-worldly. Dean couldn’t help but notice it now; the way he gingerly unfolded himself from the chair and got down on his knees. Right in front of him. Dean swallowed hard and tried to ignore the filthy things he was thinking.

When he looked into those blue eyes, Dean saw only trust. Absolute, unfailing trust. Dean’s only thought then was how much he wanted to destroy that trust; tear it into pieces and throw it away. He didn’t deserve it. Least of all from Cas. But that wasn’t all. Something inside him, something dark and spiteful, wanted to hurt him; an urge that was hard to resist.

Saying nothing, Dean placed the gun’s muzzle against Cas’ forehead and cocked the hammer. No response came, not even the dilation of pupils. Cas just stared with those impossibly blue eyes, filled with all the trust in the world. Dean clenched his teeth in frustration, growling low in his throat. Cas shouldn’t trust him right now, not with everything that had happened recently. Sam, the apocalypse—

Dean grazed the muzzle against Cas’ cheekbone, pressing it harshly into his skin, marking him. Cas said nothing, only held his breath. The level of control Dean had over him in that second was.... amazing. Heady. With everything gone to shit, _Cas_ was the only thing he could control—an ex-angel who had lost his mojo, who was slowly becoming a junkie. His dick responded to that, half-hard in his pants. Dean swallowed again, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and slid the gun down to his mouth. His full lips were so inviting, so willing to please. Dean had learned a long time ago that he could stick whatever the fuck he wanted into his mouth. This would be no different.

“Open it.”

And just like that, as expected, Cas opened his mouth, accepting the muzzle of the gun willingly. Too willingly. The way Cas stared at him, intense and dangerous, as his lips slowly slipped over the metal— _God_. Dean could hear his heart in his ears and his dick started to ache, so fucking hard he could barely stand it. And his brain.... it just stopped working altogether. All Dean planned to do was teach him how to respect the gun through fear—

Dean lost all train of thought when Cas started licking and sucking down on the barrel. He was enthusiastic and _lost_ in it, staring up at him the whole time. His mind didn’t need to reach far to imagine those lips around his cock, sucking hard and eager. Dean found himself lost for breath, mesmerized by Cas’ tongue, the way he was swallowing down the gun as far as he could. _Deep_ , bobbing up and down on it like his life depended on it. The noises that Cas made, soft little groans in the back of his throat... _Fuck_. Dean couldn’t help but press a palm against his hard dick, messaging it through the stiff fabric. His heart pounded against his ribs when Cas took control, grabbing the gun-holding hand at the wrist just to push it faster, _further_ into his greedy, hot little mouth.

With a groan of his own, Dean fumbled with the button on his jeans. He shoved his free hand down and grabbed his cock, fisting it quick and hard. He was going to explode any fucking second. While Cas licked and sucked, Dean jerked himself, sliding the head of his dick between the tight circle of his fingers. Desperate, _needy_. Cas’ sucking matched in tempo and fervor; faster, more enthusiastic. The sounds of his groaning, the sheen of the gun even more brilliant with his spit. It didn’t take long for Dean to come, his orgasm ripping through him and spilling warmth all over his fist. While Dean rode his aftershock, Cas slipped off the gun, wearing a tiny smile.

After that, Dean was convinced that Cas didn’t need any more teaching.  
  



End file.
